


Paths of the Dead

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [8]
Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Spanking, family relatinoships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While traversing the Path's of the Dead, Legolas and Gimli find something of interest</p><p>If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more like it check us out here:  http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheLeaflingChronicles/</p><p>New members are always welcome!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To understand this story, it will help to read the stories that come before it, or at least the notes for Legendary Friendship

The shortening days, are a sure sign of the change of the season and the rapid approach of the end of the year.  
We left Edoras just as the sun was rising, and we have ridden at a steady pace throughout the day, yet long before I feel the need to take a rest I can sense that Gimli is preparing to call a halt to our journey. It is scarcely late afternoon, the horses are more than capable of travelling several more leagues, yet I know my companion will insist we make camp where we are. He has already commented on the colour of the westering sun several times and how good it will be to sit and watch the sunset after we have made camp here on the Firienfeld by the banks of the Snowbourn.

Gimli may make all the excuses or denials he chooses, but I know what the real reason we will spend the night here is It is because my friend will not brave the Dimholt or pass the Warning Stone to enter the Paths of the Dead in the dark. It is a foolish prejudice, yet I will not tease him over it, irresistible though the temptation is.  
After all, what is the difference of travelling through the mountain in the dark of the night and travelling the paths during the day? Deep beneath the mountain there is no light whether it is day or night, yet such logic will not sit well with Gimli Gloinson.

While he may deny it, I know that my friend is, shall we say if we are being kind, ‘concerned’ about taking this trail at all. Only the absolute need to do so persuaded him to enter the Dimholt Gate during the War of the Ring. To use this path, now that Arda is mainly at peace seems to him to be foolish. He will not admit to the fact that he is uneasy, that the encounter with the Army of the Dead, unnerved him. Most of those of mortal kind seem to be similarly affected by this uneasiness. Elves have no such concerns. I saw the shades of the army who had forsaken their oaths and were trapped here, long before the rangers or Aragorn did, but their presence did not discomfort me.

Would that experience had been similar for Gimli. It was not however. He found the need to be in close proximity to the shades under the mountain, unnerving. It took all of his considerable courage to get him to follow me through the gates into the mountain. Either that or it was his stubborn pride that would not allow him to admit to being afraid. He has never appreciated being bested in anything by a ‘pointy eared elvish princeling ’such as myself so manage it he did and I thought that would be the end of his concerns.  
But recently he has been listening to the tales being circulated in Meduseld about the Paths of the Dead; there is talk of new voices being heard beneath the mountain, of strange noises and lights. Eomer King was inclined to dismiss such tales as foolishness and I have to say I agree with his assessment, but some of the more superstitious riders who have ridden this path in the last few months insist that they have heard ‘ghostly voices’ and seen strange lights wafting through the myriad tunnels that lead off the main pathway. All of that is foolishness of course,. Since Aragorn released the army of the dead from their oath, the paths have been quiet. There are no further ghosts just cases of over imagination coming into play from nervous men who have listened to too many ghost stories around the camp fires at night. Gimli is fascinated by these tales. He spent several nights in the company of the Eored led by Eothain who had but recently travelled the road from Gondor under the mountain to Rohan.

Such stories as they told, it was all I could do to prevent myself from laughing out loud at their fanciful tales, but Gimli took it all in and what is more he was less than enamoured by my scepticism and made his feelings very firmly known.

So I can guarantee he will come up with what he considers to be a perfectly acceptable excuse to put off entering the path under the mountain until morning despite every argument I might come up with to suggest otherwise, and to be honest I am reasonably content to wait until dawn before we continue our journey.  
Not that I am tired you understand, no indeed, it is just that I wish to have time to plan a few surprises I have in mind for my very dear friend Gimli Gloinson. Payback is due for my recent chastisement and I know just how I am going to achieve it.

I feel it well within my rights to pay him back a little once we go beyond the gate tomorrow.

It is all I can do to prevent myself from laughing out loud as Gimli suddenly pronounces that he is tired of bobbing about on the back of Arod and that he needs to stretch his legs a little.

I help him down and listen to his grumblings as I remove our packs, then ask him if we are to make our camp here.  
He graciously agrees that such an idea is a good one, and offers to build a fire pit while I go into the wood around Dimholt to pick up kindling for our fire and maybe catch a squirrel or two for supper.

As we sit around that fire I watch Gimli as he watches the dark forest that leads to the warning stone and the doorway to the path. He seems content enough, puffing on his pipe but I know better than to accept his assurances that he is at ease, for any stray noise has him reaching for his throwing axe.  
I decide to tease him a little by pretending to hear something myself, when Gimli demands to know what I reply, “well I am a little unsure of how to describe it,” I begin, “it is a little like the sound of sobbing and wailing.” I see his eyes widen at this and he sucks in air making himself cough and splutter. “I expect it is just the wind, whistling through the trees.” I conclude.

“Ye are sure laddie?”

“What else could it be my friend, there is no one else here but ourselves after all.”

“Aye, but …”

“You surely do not give credence to those foolish stories that Eothain’s men told us in Edoras.” I scoff.

He immediately denies such folly so I add “they were tales meant to frighten children; nothing more don’t you agree?” I do not wait for him to reply instead I leap to my feet and stare intently into the dark wood for a moment then shrug and drop back down to sit by the fire as if nothing is amiss.  
“What is it lad, what did you see?”

 

I shrug, “oh nothing, I thought for a moment I saw a figure, but I am sure I must have been mistaken. It was just the mist floating through the trees. Shall I take first watch?”  
I can see him staring out into the darkness his grip on his axe tightening as he strains to see what I am talking about.  
“There is nothing there Gimli,” I smile reassuringly at him. “We are safe and all alone.” He remains silent, watchful and I have to hide a grin as I repeat my question about taking the first watch.

“Eh? Aye, you do that.” He agrees, and comes back to the fire, wrapping himself in his blankets, one hand still clutching his axe. He closes his eyes but I know it is a long time before he sleeps and we have not even taken the Dimholt Road as of yet. I am going to have a great deal of amusement at my friends expense over the next few days I decide as his sonorous snores finally fill the quiet of the night and I lift my eyes to the dark sky and watch the stars dancing above us and Eärendil on Vingilot makes his nightly journey through the heavens.

 

XXXX

I light my pipe and take a deep drag, trying to calm my jangled nerves. Tomorrow morning we take the Dimholt road and while I am not exactly afraid, I will admit our last encounter in that place was somewhat unnerving. Dwarves are known for their courage and there is little that I am afraid of. I have been to the Black Gate itself and come into contact with any number of dark creatures without having any qualms about it. But there was something unsettling about being in close proximity to the Army of the Dead, not knowing if they were friend or foe made it even more so. I am accustomed to dealing with creatures of a more substantial nature. Anything I cannot split open with my axe seems to me to be unnatural and frankly just wrong; The very thought of it is enough to send a shiver down my spine. I would almost rather take on an army of trolls than to deal with such creatures as spectres or shades or whatever you want to call them. At least with the trolls you know what to expect and what you are taking on. 

From where we sit here around the fire, the warning stone and the doorway to the Path are clearly visible. I am watching it, wondering what might be beyond when Legolas suddenly leaps to his feet almost causing my heart to stop! I do not know what it is that has my flighty companion so jumpy tonight but if he keeps doing that he’s going to send me to an early grave. He has been acting as nervous as a canary in a cathouse since we stopped to make camp, and it seems to be contagious for my own nerves are completely on edge. He has never been known to be afraid of ghosts before, so I cannot imagine why he is acting so concerned, even given all the stories we have heard from Eothain’s men of recent unexplainable activity on the Path under the mountain. He made it plain enough that he thought it was all nonsense yesterday when we were listening to their tales.  
Thinking of that reminds me that the change in the elfling’s mood since this morning is nothing short of astonishing for when we set out on this journey, he was still very put out with me over the events of yesterday evening. He threw me enough dark looks and ignored my attempts at conversation to the point that I finally asked what he in such a strop about. It seems he was still angry about having been taken to task over his part in the conversation with men who had so recently returned to Rohan by way of the Dimholt road. He claimed that it was unfair for me to have called him to account just because he didn’t believe the stories those men told. I reminded him that he knew very well that that was not the reason, and suggested that if he was still uncertain as to what the true reason was then I would be happy to explain it one more time. He wisely decided against that idea and we spent the next several hours riding in silence, but by the time we made it to just outside the door to the path, he was as cheerful and sweet tempered as ever. I’ll never figure out what goes on between those pointy ears if I live to be a million years old. 

Legolas startles me again when he flinches at the sounds of ‘wailing and sobbing’ and it takes smoking another bowl of pipeweed to get my heart back into its normal rhythm. What has gotten into that child, I do not know unless he is thinking of the tales we heard around the fire last night, though he did not seem to be the least bit concerned at the time. He brushed them all off as rubbish borne of overactive imaginings. I, on the other hand, was not so easily convinced of that.

I am not one to give much heed to tall tales told around fires, often after a few rounds of ale. I know men as well as dwarves tend to exaggerate at the very least, especially when talking to a large audience and with a few beers under their belt. I am hardly naive or easily taken in by such accounts, but the stories told last night were not in that category.  
Twenty-three men had recently returned from the Dimholt road and every one of them swore to hearing voices and unusual sounds. Over half of them saw vaporous images that took human form and all twenty-three witnessed unexplainable lights in places that should have been in total darkness. None of them carried the expression of men who were jesting, or telling a tale just for the reaction of the crowd. On the contrary, they all had a harrowed look, as if they had just returned from a traumatic ordeal. I cannot say if what they witnessed were truly ghosts, but I can say that they certainly believed that is what they saw. This was not something they were making up for the entertainment of the crowd.  
I could see Legolas did not believe one word of what they were saying, but just passed it off as the over active imaginations of mortals. After all the curse had been lifted so the Paths were now quiet. It was a simple as that. Instead of saying that, though, he played on the fears of those men to tease them a bit. He declared that shades rarely stayed in one spot, and could very likely make their way into the city. I elbowed him to warn him to knock it off, but instead of having the desired result of keeping him quiet, it only made him move out of my reach and keep telling tales. It would not have been so bad, but in that city of men it is commonly believed that elves have some kind of special insight about such things and it was easy to see that they believed every word he said in spite of my protests to the contrary. When I overheard him telling one wide-eyed young Rohirrim that some ghosts could hitch a ride on a person’s belongings and follow him home, I decided it was enough. When he saw my face, he quickly admitted to the Lad that he was only jesting, but it was too late to prevent a very in depth discussion when we returned to our quarters on why it is unkind to play on another persons fears for your own amusement. This is what led to the bad mood of this morning and his accusing me of being unfair. He seems perfectly content now, though, except for his uncharacteristic jumpiness.  
I admit to being a little suspicious that he could be doing this to pull my strings and increase my fears, though I dismiss the idea as unlikely. Surely he wouldn’t have the nerve to do such a thing after having just been in hot water for that very issue. No it is wrong of me suspect him of such a childish prank. When he offers to take the first watch, I feel a twinge of guilt at having had such thoughts. There is no reason to believe his motives are not good.

I take my blanket and try to sleep, but still find it difficult to do so in this place that has so many disconcerting memories, and alarming rumours associated with it. When I finally do drift off my dreams are a disturbing mix of ghostly faces and eerie memories of the Dead Army. I wake up just before dawn feeling just as uneasy as when I went to sleep the night before in spite of the fact that I have slept for many hours. As is typical, Legolas did not wake me up during the night to exchange the watch, but took both shifts himself. Since I did not remember to insist that he wake me, I do not bother to mention it now. He can get by on little sleep, and one night taking both watches will not do any harm.  
He appears to be just as merry as he did last night and more than ready to continue our journey. After taking a few minutes to break our fast we get to work striking camp. Legolas hums cheerfully as we pack up with none of his nervousness from last night still evident. I wish I could say the same for myself. My own apprehension grows as we inch closer and closer to the door to Dimholt Road. My mouth becomes dry and my heart rate increases as we move closer to the Path and I begin to think once again, that it would be easier to go around.

 

XXXX  
Finally the camp is struck and we are ready to resume our journey. This morning we will walk the Dimholt Road, leading the horses, Arod is an exceptionally well-trained animal but he does not take well to the dark of the path into the mountain and I do not wish to see him galloping off down to the Snowbourn as he did during the quest. As for the pack animal, well he seems an amiable beast and not the type that is spooked easily, but since he carries important letters and documents from Eomer King to Elessar we would do well to make sure he remains firmly attached to the leading rein that Gimli is currently holding.

I am not sure which of the trio following me is the least happy about beginning our day’s travel. Gimli slept soundly during the night and I did not have the heart to wake him to take his turn on watch. It was not that I needed the rest myself I can go for many days without sleep and I enjoy watching the stars. And if I am being completely honest with myself the fact that he took such a long time to find rest leaves me feeling a little guilty for it was my foolishness that unsettled him.

I know very well how hard he finds entering the Paths of the Dead and yet I also know that his courage is such that he would never allow fear to prevent him doing what was needful. What is worse as if to pay me back for my poor behaviour towards my friend I found myself growing uneasy as the night wore on. I am not so foolish as to tell Gimli this but I begin to think that the tales the men told of ‘ghosts’ under the mountain were not as farfetched as I first believed, even from this distance I could hear faint noises emanating from the caverns. My interest is piqued and I intend to keep both a sharp look out and listen very closely when we pass through the door into the paths, perhaps a few of the dead linger there still and if that is the case Aragorn and Eomer will need to be told.

For now I lead our motley group past the Warning Stone and then wait as Gimli brings out two lanterns that we will use to help light our way. They are safety lanterns, better than open torches and less prone to being blown out by sudden gusts of air, but they give off less light than a torch would do so we will have to step carefully.  
When I ask Gimli if he is ready he grunts and nods so I take this as permission to enter through the Dark Door and lead Arod inside. Our journey should take us two days, no more if we do not have to stop to rest more than once probably when we reach the Stone of Erech where Aragorn called the dead to him.

As the little light that enters from the Dark Door recedes and we move deeper under the mountain I feel the claustrophobia that always assails me when I go underground but it is not that which concerns me most at the present. I can feel Gimli’s growing tension so I begin to sing only softly of course but sufficiently loud enough for him to hear and to hopefully offer him comfort. When he asks me why I am singing I tell him it is to calm the two horses and he seems contented with my reply although I suspect he really knows what I am about.

We take a short break at what I assume is midday, it is impossible to tell this deep under the mountain and my recent new found sympathy for Gimli undergoes a change of view as he prevents me going off to explore a side tunnel where there seems to me to be some kind of soft glow.  
“You are going nowhere without me laddie” he growls at me, and when I dare to dispute this order he gives me one of his most intimidating glares, which I can sense even though there is little light to see it b. Even so I mutter.

“I only wish to see what is causing the glow.”

“You may say that but we both know you will end up in mischief or worse yet, trouble,” he counters “What is more you know well that certain lichens give off their own light, and if it isn’t that well better we don’t disturb whatever it is. Tis an unnatural place full of shadows and ill omen, who knows what may still lurk here waiting to prey on the unwary.” He shudders then points a forceful finger at me. “ Ye are not to leave my side while we are traversing this accursed road, Child.”

That is such a ridiculous restriction I am tempted to get up and go off just to spite the dwarf, but I think better of it when he informs me that he is quite ready to attach a leading rein to the back of my belt and keep me tethered to him if necessary.

So, I acquiesce, reluctantly I admit but as the day continues my frustration with my friend grows and I decide that I have been too forgiving, he twitches at every sound and keeps turning round to see if we are being followed by the dead and his disquiet begins to affect me as well.

As we pass a niche in the wall where piles of skulls leer at us through their empty eye sockets as our lanterns glow catch them at a certain angle we both start and the horses sidle and snort and I hear Gimli mumble a plea to Aûle to keep us safe.

I offer a short prayer of my own then I laugh nervously to myself telling myself that Gimli’s uneasiness must be catching.  
Yet although all is quiet something prickles at the back of my consciousness, a feeling that we are being watched. Shadows press upon us, shades dancing along the narrow confines of the passage walls.

I have to school myself strongly to prevent my turning round as we go deeper into the mountain. There is no need for me to do so after all for Gimli may as well be walking backwards. He spins around often, walking axe coming to hand, as some soft sound assails his ears.This is getting to be ridiculous I have become infected by the dwarf’s paranoia; enough is enough! Tonight when we have set up camp I am going to prove to Gimli once and for all that there is nothing here to fear save what we bring with us.  
I will no doubt come to regret my scheming but a sore rear will be worth it after a day of starting at shadows and being told to take care all the time. I doubt not that if it was possible to walk two abreast he would insist on holding my hand so convinced does he seem that I am incapable of looking out for myself.

 

 

XXXX

The moment we step through the door leading the horses behind us, I know we have made a big mistake. I am normally one to make choices based on solid facts, not hunches, or whims, but it is difficult to ignore the hair that stands up on the back of my neck as we make our way deeper into the mountain. I am not afraid of the dark, for whatever is in the dark is also in the light and I have spent the better part of my life under the ground. But this place is different. There is something uncanny and unnatural here even though I can see nothing out of the ordinary by the dim light of our safety lanterns. Even Legolas seems anxious as we walk along the path, so much so that when he begins to sing, I wonder if it is for my sake or to settle his own frazzled nerves. When I ask him, he claims it is to calm the horses, though I expect that may not be entirely true. Either way it helps, for his voice is pleasant to listen to and it lets me know that he is still nearby, for I am having to fight the desire to take his hand and make him stay by my side.

I know it is foolish, but ever since the lad was placed in my charge I have a strong inclination to shelter him from danger even though he is well equipped to care for himself, though in my defence he has been known to fall into scrapes out of recklessness or lack of forethought so my fears are not entirely unfounded. Already I have three times swallowed back warnings to be careful and it is all I can do to prevent myself from ordering him to trade me places and let me lead. It would help my anxiety if he would slow down and pay heed to where he is stepping for the path is dim and neither of us is familiar with this place. I know it will not sit well with my friend if I speak out and warn him against carelessness, and I have no desire to argue with him, but my jaws are beginning to ache with the effort to keep the words from escaping. 

As we make our way deeper inside the mountain my apprehension only intensifies. I have noticed eerie light coming from several offshoots of the main road and am only thankful that Legolas has been in too much of a hurry to notice them or he would likely insist on finding their source. There are reasonable explanations for such phenomenon but I am not certain if the answer is natural or supernatural. There is only one way to be certain and truthfully I am not that curious. It is far better to make our way out of here without being sidetracked by the curious or unusual. If whatever is causing the light is not something easily explainable then we are better off leaving it undisturbed. My goal is to get through the next two days as uneventfully as possible and any added exploring will only hinder my plan. 

Sometime around midday we stop for a rest and Legolas discovers one of the lights glowing inside one of the side tunnels. As I knew he would when he noticed, he starts to go to inspect where it is coming from but I am prepared for it and grab a handful of the back of his cloak. 

“You are going nowhere without me, Laddie,” I inform him in my sternest tone.

I cannot see his face, but I can tell he is rolling his eyes by the exasperation in his voice.

“I only wish to see what is causing the glow,” he mutters.

Ha! If only I had a silver coin for every time trouble came from a sentence that started like that one! ‘I only wish to___,” fill in the blank! I’ve heard that seemingly innocent phrase time and again and rarely has it not led to trouble and sorrow so we will not be entertaining that idea today. He does not care for my comment about this, but at the moment I really don’t care. My nerves are too strained to worry over offending his sensibilities anymore, so I say the words that he always hates to hear, maybe more than any others for he does not wish to be protected or as he would say treated like a child, but if I am going to be able to make the rest of this journey without my heart giving out, we have to establish some ground rules. 

“Ye are not to leave my side while we are traversing this accursed road, Child,” I order, glaring in his direction. As I expected he does not wish to hear this and he begins to sputter in outrage at such a demand, but before he can make it to a full blown tantrum, I let him know that I am fully prepared to tether him to me with a leading reign if he would rather go that route. He continues to mutter under his breath, but I choose not to hear what he says since he gives up the idea of investigating the tunnel. I only require compliance; a good attitude is optional. 

Nothing improves as we move forward along the path. Unintelligible whisperings assault my ears and I cannot shake the feeling that we are not alone here. Footsteps seem to be coming from behind us, but when I turn to inspect them nothing is there. We turn around a bend in the road and find ourselves facing a gruesome mountain of skulls, which causes the two of us to nearly leap out of our skin. It is a long time before my heart beats normally again.  
After that Legolas picks up the pace of our march, seemingly ready to make our way out of here as soon as possible. I do not blame him in the least, for I will be more than happy to leave this place, yet I still feel we need to tread carefully here lest we fall into trouble. What malevolence lies here I do not know, but I have no desire to accidentally awaken some unknown evil. I continue to follow the elfling, twice reminding him to be cautious, a suggestion that only makes him grumble and slow down for ten seconds. Moments later we are back to speeding along the darkened path, and I have to point out several more times that we need to take it slowly. My heart jumps into my throat as he leaps off the ledge of a small drop off, without shining the lantern into the bottom to see how deep it is. It is only a couple of steps down but that is hardly the point!  
Between the unnatural eeriness of this wretched path and trying to keep a watch on my capricious charge, I have had just about all I can take. That blind leap was the final straw.  
“Trade me places, Elfling,” I command, causing him to stop and turn toward me.  
“What…Why?” he demands to know.  
“Ye’re entirely too heedless of the dangers of this place, so I will lead us,” I explain. “Trade. Now!” I snap my fingers and point with my thumb to indicate that he is to walk behind me. Not surprisingly he isn’t thrilled with this turn of events.  
“Gimli don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t do anything that could be construed to be even slightly dangerous,” he begins, but I am in no mood to hear what he has to say. My nerves are shot and my patience has completely run out. We should never have come to this place to begin with as far as I am concerned. Now that we have come this far we must continue, but from this moment on we will do it my way. I can deal with hurt feelings or ruffled feathers when we are safely on the other side. For now I only wonder why he is standing there gaping at me instead of trading me places like I just asked.  
“Damn it, Lad, if you do not move immediately to do as I say, you will regret it bitterly in about twenty seconds,” I threaten between clenched teeth.  
“All right Gimli, I’m going. No need to burst a vein!” He walks past me, handing me Arod’s rein since there isn’t room here to trade the animals’ places. I’m certain it must grate that I am now leading his beloved horse and he is leading the pack beast, but it cannot be helped. Though I know it will irritate him further I point a warning finger toward him before moving on.  
“Do not, under any circumstances move beyond arms length of this beast,” I order. “If I turn to look at you, you had best be able to give Arod a nice pat.”  
Even I can see this is a harsh restriction, but I cannot stand the thought of what might happen if he decides to go off and explore one of the numerous side paths and we end up getting separated. My heart quails at the thought, even as I feel a little sorry for being so hard on him. I know he is seething but I will just have to make it up to him when we get out of here and my heart is no longer permanently lodged in my throat. For now he’ll just have to live with it.  
The look on my face must be startling, for he does not even bother to comment, let alone argue. Instead he only nods his understanding and we move on, this time with me leading us. We walk along in watchful silence for the next few hours, until we come to the Stone of Erech, a place we both recognize as being a halfway point. As much as I would rather continue on until we can get out of this shadow-infested place, I realize we must stop for the night. The horses must be rested and the stress of the day has us in need of respite as well. It would not do to give out before we reach the end of the path.  
We quickly care for the horses and take care of what little there is to setting up camp. Supper is a dismal affair, for we cannot risk a fire in this cramped area so instead we eat dried foods from our packs by the light of the lanterns and then decide to call it a night.  
This time, I insist on taking first watch for I know Legolas will not sleep at all if I do not. He does not bother to argue; in fact he barely speaks to me at all, but just wraps a blanket around his shoulders and attempts to sleep. I cannot be certain if he manages it or not, but after several hours of quietly guarding his rest, I stroke his cheek with one finger to wake him. Without comment he takes over the watch, while I try to sleep. I am nearly certain I will not be able to, but before long I feel myself drifting off.

 

XXXX  
I sit brooding, alternatively watching Gimli and then turning my attention to our strange surroundings, here in the centre of the mountain is what was the City of the Dead. The remains of the structures that housed the army of the dead are still here; stretching high up into the mountain, empty window and doorways, pillars of stone, broken brick and old decaying banners still move fitfully in the air. Fortunately the thousands of skulls that were released when the dead were summoned have all disappeared else I do not think Gimli would rest here at all although he is finding it difficult enough to sleep even now. I am beginning to despair of being able to do what I wish. I blow out a frustrated breath and when I look back at Gimli again he has finally stepped onto the path of dreams.

I was becoming so irritated that I had even thought of knocking him over the head with his be-damned safety lantern to get him to close his eyes so that I can start on my plans. I no longer have any doubts about what I am about to do. Gimli has driven me close to distraction this day and I am determined to get my revenge.  
I have been planning this since he made me exchange places with him, and walk behind like an elfling in disgrace. I do wonder at the sense of what I am about to do, for to leave a companion sleeping alone when I should be on watch , goes against all I have been taught, but …

Well, I am sorry, but he deserves this after all the aggravation he has put me through and I will not be any great distance from him after all. I merely have to retrace my steps a little and retrieve the thing I want and return. He will never know of my absence. I set off swiftly, not bothering with a lantern, since my natural soft glow is sufficient for me to find my way.

While I am walking I once again get the strange sensation of being watched and by unfriendly eyes, but whenever I stop and listen there are only the natural sounds concomitant with underground life. I shrug off my disquiet find what I want and return to our camp where Gimli sleeps.  
It does not take me long to set up my prank. I place a skull near to Gimli’s head and slip the safety lantern inside so that it glows eerily. I look forward to seeing the look on his face when he awakes to find himself staring straight into the eye sockets of this long dead mortal.

My elders would soundly scold me for such childishness and for my abuse of this relic but I see no harm in using it. It is merely the remains of someone long gone, and since they have no apparent need of their bones after death takes them, I feel sure they will not object to my making use of them as I have.

I sit back quite contented to wait for Gimli to awake naturally and find myself slipping into reverie only to be woken by the shifting of the horses.  
I wake with a start wondering what has caused them to be so unsettled and cross over to offer them reassurance only for me to see out of the corner of my eye a shadow flitting across the bottom of a side tunnel which adjoins the main cavern where we are camped. Even with my eyesight I am unable to make out what it is, and would not have seen it at all save for the phosphorescent light emanating from the lichen covered walls further down the tunnel.

I strain my ears and eyes, my hand going automatically for my knives, as another wraith like figure slips across the bottom of the tunnel. As I watch the shape seems to dissipate and all that is left is a soft sibilant whisper on the air it is as if whatever it is, is calling to me.

Part of me wishes very much to follow, but I hesitate, knowing I should really wake Gimli and tell him what I have seen, but that would spoil my prank and I am reluctant to do that. Instead I pick up my bow and slip off down the tunnel following the shady figures, for I am beginning to feel that something is very much amiss beneath this mountain.

XXXX


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Paths of the Dead Chapter 2  
Authors: Minnie and Beth

My first thought as I return to wakefulness is that the sun has already risen and we must be moving on, for I can see the brightness of the day without even opening my eyes. Then I remember where we are, and realize with a start that there shouldn’t be any brightness at all here under the mountain. A chill runs down my spine as my hand tightens on the axe that lies next to me. I open my eyes to find myself looking directly into the glowing eye sockets of a ghoulish spectre lying just beyond the end of my nose! My heart stops and I leap to my feet, instinctively bringing my axe crashing down. Instead of dissipating like a wisp of cloud, as I would have expected from a ghost, shards of bone fly everywhere and I hear what sounds distinctly like the tinkling of broken glass. 

I have to take a moment to massage my chest to get my heart working again and it is some time before it is back to anything resembling a normal rhythm. It takes several minutes of deep breathing before I feel capable of figuring out what has happened. When I inspect the area I find shards of bone and glass along with twisted bits of metal. It seems I have managed to demolish one of our safety lanterns along with the skull that was housing it. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened here. 

Confounded pointy-eared bratling! Of all the childish pranks he has pulled this is surely the most juvenile and poorly planned. Now we’ll have to continue this journey with only the one remaining lantern and Valar help us if something happens to that one and all this because of his injured pride. If he thinks this little incident will improve my opinion of his ability to lead us on this path, he is sorely mistaken. When I finish with him this day, his time walking behind me last evening leading the pack horse will seem like a fond memory he longs to return to and our first encounter with the army of the dead a pleasant dream. From this day on when he thinks about Dimholt road the only thing he will recall is what is about to happen next! He may not be afraid of ghosts but he will shudder when he thinks of this place from now on. Phantoms in the dark are nothing when compared to an irate and agitated dwarf. First I have to find him.

“Legolas!” I shout into the darkness and hear only my own voice echoing back. I shake my head at my own stupidity. Of course he isn’t going to answer my call. No doubt he is hiding somewhere snickering over how his trick played out. Very well, I can wait. He cannot stay hidden forever and we are not on a time schedule. I rifle through my pack and dig out my pipe and tin of pipeweed. I sit with my back to the wall and take my time smoking, refilling the bowl three times before knocking out the ash on the heel of my boot and putting it away. After that I just sit and stare into the darkness. I notice a side tunnel up ahead and off to the left that glows brighter than the others. Oh I see what this is. No doubt my recalcitrant charge wants to play a game with me by sending me on a wild goose chase trying to track him down. I suppose the light will lead me to part two of his prank. I have no idea how he is making that glow, but I have no intention of playing along with his nonsense. I’ll wait right here until he is good and tired of messing about and comes back ready to be sensible. A dwarf’s patience can wear out a stone if he puts his mind to it.

I take my time repacking our things and loading them back onto the pack beast. That is all there is to getting prepared to leave, so there is nothing to do but sit back down and wait. And wait. For several hours I sit waiting for the elfling to give up and come back. The light from the side tunnel grows brighter and I wonder how he is pulling it off. Truly it looks like sunshine pouring in and I have to admit it is a good trick. Still he is only wasting our time with this foolishness and I am beginning to think it might be better to play along and track him so we can won’t have to spend another night in this accursed place. Making my decision I stand, pick up the remaining lantern and tie the pack beast to Arod, so I can lead them with one reign.

I pick my way along until I come to the lit tunnel, where I turn in. It is narrow and winding and way in the distance I see something lying on the ground. I roll my eyes. This is meant to be my next clue no doubt. When I finally get close enough, I see that it is Legolas’ weapons lying side by side next to a large boulder. A low growl escapes my throat. Now this is thoughtlessness beyond measure! His bow and both knives are left on the path meaning he is unarmed and alone on top of everything else. When I catch up with him I intend to make good my threat to tether him to me until we are out of this place and that after a long discussion on why it is folly to go off unprotected in a strange place. I never dreamed he was capable of being so foolish as to do something like this just for amusement. 

I pick up the bow and tie it to our pack beast then start to pick up the knives as well. For the first time, I notice that they are aligned perfectly with the tips pointing toward the large boulder that seems to be loose from the wall. Cautiously I move it aside and I can see that it is a door leading to an even narrower path. I pick up the knives and slip them into my own belt, before leading the horses carefully through the formerly hidden door. I shudder as I look on another winding path that veers off in many directions one of them no doubt leading to my wayward elfling and whatever trick he has conceived to play on me. I cannot believe we are wasting so much time on some adolescent hoax just because he is still pouting over not being allowed to lead us on the path yesterday. 

Again I follow the new path and again there is a light far in the distance. This is really an elaborate scheme he has devised and I am baffled as to why he would put so much energy into plotting this just because his nose is still out of joint. I know his pride runs deep, but this is getting ridiculous. I keep walking the brightened pathway and when I come to a certain area all goes dark except for one little circle of light. It makes a spotlight shining down on two objects on the ground. Elven knives. Again they are perfectly aligned, tips pointing toward another disguised door. Since when did the lad start carrying four knives? They look identical to the two he always carries, down to the notched handle that was damaged during the quest. I was able to polish out most of the scratches for him after the war, but this one was so deep I couldn’t remove it completely without compromising the weapon itself. He had laughed and called it a battle scar, and continued to carry it blemished though it now was. I would recognize it anywhere. Gooseflesh crawls along my scalp and my stomach drops to the floor as I look down at my belt. As I knew would be the case, the knives I placed there only minutes ago are missing, mainly because the same are now lying on the path.

It takes a moment for reality to sink it and then a dreadful realization hits me, making my insides quake. Except for the lamp in the skull, this is no prank or childish attempt at revenge. Legolas may be clever, but even he cannot manage something like this. So now the question becomes what did do this and what has happened to my elfling? My heart sinks even further when I realize how much time I have wasted already waiting for him to give up and come back. Valar only knows where he might be by now!

 

 

XXXX  
The further I travel away from our camp the more I wonder what possesses me to do these things. Part of me wishes to return to Gimli, dismantle what seems increasingly like a foolish, childish piece of spite, and then to waken my friend and share with him my growing suspicions and uneasiness.  
Yet going back might entail having to explain away my absence in the first place, not to mention that should my fortune turn ill, as it so often does when I conduct myself poorly, I may find a highly irate dwarf awaiting me, and I know all too well what the outcome of that meeting would be. I am in a rare pickle and no mistake as Samwise would undoubtedly say.

Go back or go on? As I stand pondering this question my eyes are once again caught by the flickering of shadows on the cavern walls beyond the tunnel I now stand in and a repeat of that sibilant whispering. If this is an omen I hope it is a good one, so determinedly putting my guilty conscience behind me I follow.

It is as well that elves have a heightened sense of direction for I am soon far from the centre of the mountain where the stone stands, and the twisting and turning of the passageways means that it would be difficult to find the path to allow me to retrace my steps. I had not travelled far when I began to see evidence of other beings having made use of these tunnels very recently, it seems my ghosts are anything but … the footsteps in the dusty ground are made by men, and not the men of Rohan either. Yet even with this proof before my very eyes I cannot help feeling that other elements are also present. I cannot see them as clearly as I did the Army of the Dead when Aragorn summoned them, but I feel the presence of beings that are not of this physical world. They drift by me, twisting and turning as if to seek to turn me from my present path.

I can almost feel their breath upon my face as they brush close to me, their forms are too shadowy for me to make out who they might be, or should I say who they were, but I am not about to be put off my quest by their antics. It takes more than a few shades to make the son of Thranduil turn tail and run, an angry dwarf might have more chance at getting me to flee, than mere wisps of air.

Having traversed down several passageways each one guarded by a round stone which hides their location from any but the sharpest of eyes, I proceed more slowly now for the light is growing stronger and there is noise ahead and … my nose twitches and I pull a face as the pungent smell of unwashed mortal kind assails my nostrils. I have never understood why it is that men in particular seem unable to keep themselves clean. Surely hygiene is not such a foreign concept to them. Other mortals have no such difficulty, Hobbits and Dwarfs even know the benefits that regular bathing can bring. Yet even my friend Aragorn seemed unaware that the pungent smell given off by weeks of hard travel and little interaction with soap and water was vastly unpleasant, and made it very easy for predators to follow his trail.

That has all changed since he became King of course, and to be fair to my friend he was always happy to reach Imladris or the stronghold of my father; take advantage of the hot baths and don clean clothing. Perhaps it was the coldness of the water he disliked so much when we were out in the wilds, I will have to ask him when we get to Minas Tirith. I smile at his likely reaction, but my smile is short lived as I hear voices ahead of me, just around the next corner it seems.

I draw back into the shadows, and watch unseen as two men appear. They are speaking in a tongue I do not fully understand although I recognise their dress easily enough; after the downfall of Númenor these men became known as Black Númenoreans. But even their evil has been eclipsed by their descendants who have mixed with the Haradrim and the lowest type of men. Their distinctive clothing and weaponry, the sharpened teeth and the scimitars are unmistakable: they are Corsairs from Umbar.

The Corsairs are blood thirsty, merciless pirates and would be slavers. They must have been making use of the caverns under the mountain for some time to store stolen goods and weaponry. Perhaps as far back as during the War of the Ring, for it was not far from the exit from Dunharrow that Aragorn, Gimli and I came across the black ships sailing up to Harlond to join with the others of Sauron’s forces in their attack on the Pelennor.

Aragorn and Eomer will both want to hear about this, and they will be anxious for as much detail as I can give them. So it seems that some of what the men from Edoras spoke of is true. The pirates must use the uneasiness and fear that men generally have of the supernatural to keep them away. A few wails and strange lights and shadows have probably been all they have needed. Fortunately being an elf, I have no such fears, so their tricks have failed as far as I am concerned. Even the ‘real’ ghosts that still abide here have failed to stop me investigating what is going on.

I edge closer to the end of the passageway and find that it opens out into another quite large cavern, similar in size to the one where Gimli and I stopped. Fortunately for me, the passage is high up on the walls at this point and then drops down gradually to the floor of the cave where a large group of the Corsairs are settled.

I strain to hear what they are saying, dredging up from the depths of my memory my knowledge of their form of language as I try to interpret their words. It seems my first thoughts are correct, from what I can make out they use Dunharrow as a storage place for their stolen goods, and as a place they can plan further outrages in the villages up the rivers from here.

There are cages at the far rear of the cave, large enough to hold men and I shudder at the thought of the suffering that the poor wretches they capture are put through before they are sold on as slaves. Even while I watch I feel the shades that earlier tried to get me to turn back are still present and they seem ever more anxious to make me leave this place, I will do so, but first I wish to try and see where these men enter and leave the mountain. It is plain they do not use the narrow paths that we have been traversing, so there must be a larger egress somewhere close by.

I am so busy trying to spot this hidden door that I almost miss the light footsteps behind me, I swing round my knives coming naturally to my hands to see a leering Corsair lifting his scimitar.

“Well, well what have we here?” he laughs “You should have minded your business elf, happy though I am that you did not, we will get a fine price for you on the slave blocks in Umbar, such a pretty looking thing”

I step towards him knowing that I will have to despatch him swiftly before he can raise the alarm, but although he moves back out of my way, he does not seem overly concerned, then I realize that he is not looking at me but past me, there is someone behind me. Before I can turn to face this new threat, something heavy descends upon the back of my head and I crumple into the darkness, my last fleeting thought being of poor Gimli, he will likely never know what became of me. I just hope he does not share my fate that I could not bear.

 

 

 

XXXXX

I turn the knives over and over in my hands wondering how things got so out of control and what I need to do next. I am mentally kicking myself for having waited so long to try to find Legolas. I should have known better than to think he was spiteful enough to actually delay our trip just to get even with me. He might have been annoyed enough to plan a little mischief, but he would never compromise our safety just for the sake of getting his own back. I should have known that, but at the time I was too aggravated myself to think of it. When I think of myself sitting around smoking while who knows what was happening to my charge I feel quite sick. We should never have entered this evil place to begin with. But I must not digress into worrying over regrets. I have to decide what to do now.

I place the two knives back in my belt and shiver at the thought of where they might end up next since they seem to have a mind of their own. The idea that shades have lead me to where I am now does little to ease my mind for I do not know if they have sinister intent or if they are trying to help me. For all I know Legolas might have been led into some sort of trap by the very spectres that are insisting that I follow them. If I end up sharing his fate, I will not be able to help him.

The shades intensify their efforts to communicate with me. I can almost hear their voices, but I must not be sensitive enough to them to make out what they are trying to say, though it is clear that they wish me to go on. A spot of light appears on the round stone that I am meant to move and I can feel a pressure pushing me as if I am walking with a strong wind to my back. It urges me to move forward, but I am uncertain as of yet. But what are my options? I could wander around this labyrinth of tunnels for days on my own but there are hundreds of pathways and side tunnels. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. I could go back to Edoras and find help, but it would take at least four days travel to get back to this point and that might be more time than the elfling has, especially if he is injured. Remembering that wherever he is he is unarmed and doesn’t even have a lantern is what finally makes me come to a conclusion. For good or ill, I will follow the lead of the ghosts, Aûle help me, for I do not know what else to do. It will become clear soon enough if this was the right choice. I push aside the stone.

Arod snorts and shies and it is then I realize I cannot take the horses with me. As much as I hate to leave them behind I know I have to. I take Arod’s reign and try to lead them back to where we spent last night, but the force pulling against me when I turn around makes it difficult to move.   
“I must return the horses,” I say out loud. I cannot believe I am having a conversation with ghosts, but the force releases and I am able to move forward. I take the horses back and speak briefly to them before retracing my steps and entering through the now opened door. 

I admit the supernatural activity around me makes me uneasy, but I swallow my fears and follow where the anxious spirits lead. They wish me to hurry it seems for if I stand still even for a moment, intense humming buzzes around my head until I continue on. Now that I am looking to be led the tunnels I am meant to follow are no longer brightly glowing, but only minuscule points of light show me where I must go. I follow them for what seems like hours, though I cannot be certain. Finally I come to a passage where I can see a light that is of a natural source. I slow my steps and proceed more carefully and soon I can hear voices. These are not the unintelligible whisperings I have been hearing all day, but the voices of men. They are too far away and they are speaking in a language I do not understand so I cannot make out what they are saying.

I inch cautiously forward to a place where the path widens and then seems to drop off. A soft breeze seems to brush my face as if to get my attention and my hand goes automatically to my belt feeling for the knives. Of course they are no longer there. This time though they are not pointing me in a direction, but lying helter-skelter on the ground as if they had been suddenly dropped there. When I inspect them further I discover that one of them is covered in fresh blood, only it is not on the blade but the hilt. I pick up the fickle daggers for the third time and wipe the handle on the edge of my shirt leaving a damp spot before returning them to my belt. It is then I notice something stuck to the bloody spot on my shirt and I pull it free and hold it up to the light. One long golden strand of hair. He has been here.

 

 

 

XXXXX


	3. Chapter 3

The softest of touches brushes my cheek. It is the way I have become accustomed to being woken by Gimli, yet I know that this contact does not come from him. Whoever it is who is trying to bring me back to consciousness it is not my friend, yet they are equally as insistent as he in their efforts and so I try to comply with their wishes.

At the same time my own senses are screaming a warning at me to take care, so I do not open my eyes or move, but begin to make a mental assessment of my present situation and what I find is not reassuring.

I am lying on an earth floor of some kind. My head is aching and the stickiness I feel in my hair tells me that I have suffered an injury of some kind; as my memory returns I realize that is indeed the case, I recollect now … the Corsairs!

Cautiously I try to move my arms and legs and find that they are not bound, which is a relief. Nor have I been molested in any other way as far as I can tell, but how long that situation will persist I do not dare think of, One thing is very clear, somehow I must escape, not only for my own safety but for Gimli and everyone else who may be affected by the wickedness of these pirates.

I lie still for a few moments longer trying to assess how long I have been unconscious. I strain to hear voices or movement beyond my prison, but all is quiet, so I dare to open my eyes.

I am imprisoned in one of the cages I saw earlier. The bars are made of solid iron and the door barred by a strong lock. Breaking out will be difficult. The ground beneath my hands is hard rock; there will be no way out through there either, yet escape I must or die trying, I will not allow myself to be taken as a slave. Easing round slightly I can now see the whole of the floor of the cavern where the pirates have made their lair. Boxes, trunks, and barrels, no doubt booty from their raids on ships and villages litter the ground. In the centre there is a fire pit, the ashes still glowing, but most of the Corsairs seem to be sleeping only a couple are on guard I close my eyes and make my body go limp as they turn their attention in my direction and come over to view their prize.

“He’ll bring a good price in Umbar”

“That he will” the second answers waving a torch over the cage where I lie. “Wiv that colour hair and im being an elf an all. I heard as they are good fighters, I’d give a gold piece or two to see him, maybe we can persuade the captain to let us pit ourselves agin him before he’s sent to the ship?”  
“Captain, says we is to leave im well alone. He ain’t to be spoiled afore he’s sold; pity! I would have enjoyed seeing him beg for mercy like the others did afore him. Some of them women was almost as pretty as im as well!”

“I wonder if he would squeal like them.”

“Nah, I doubt it, and he ain’t goin to be given the chance to kill his self either like them females did.”

Both of them laugh and I have to force myself to keep quite still at their hateful words. Yet even as I lie here a strong wind seems to whip up from nowhere, blowing out their torch, and throwing dust into their faces. Cursing they retreat to the fire pit and I am left alone, save for the misty shades that seem to have gathered in front of my cage as if in an attempt to protect me.

Strange that I can see them more clearly now. They are not like the ghosts that Aragorn summoned, for they wore armour and open-faced helmets and you could make out the remains of their faces. Although the effect of breaking their oath had eaten away at them over the ages so that their skulls, bones, and shreds of skin only remained. The wraiths of the oath breakers were horribly decomposed, skeletal spectres consumed from within by pain and the shame of what they had failed to do. These shades that stand before me now are far less grotesque. Many seem to be of women, some of children and older men, no doubt the younger men were taken away to work in the galley’s of the slave ships. The pain and fear of their deaths remain in their features yet they do not appear to be frightening. I begin to believe that these shades are here because the horror of their deaths has anchored them here. They cannot depart in peace while the perpetrators live and continue their hated trades.

I also wonder if there is anything they can do to help me escape so that I can avenge their deaths. Seeing the pirates have decided not to return to my prison I push myself up to a sitting position and begin to search for some way of escape, as my eyes go up to the tunnel where I first espied their camp I see the briefest glint of light on what appears to be a dwarven helmet.

My heart goes into my mouth. Gimli! For a moment I am ecstatic, knowing he is there and probably planning my rescue, then reality bites. For all his prowess in battle one dwarf cannot take on this many adversaries.

He must not come down here.

I could not live with myself if he were to be killed or injured in a vain attempt to free me, or worse if he were to be captured.  
Yet what can I do, situated as I am, I attempt to stand but my eyesight wavers, and the dizziness I have been trying to ignore returns full force, I think it is likely I have concussion.  
The soft tendrils of hands on my face recall my attention to the wraiths before me, some of them seem to float away up towards where Gimli is hidden although what they can achieve I know not I can only hope that they do something to persuade him not to endanger himself for me.

 

XXXX

It doesn’t take a world-class tracker to read what happened here. Three sets of footprints where I stand and only two leading off to the opening of the tunnel. Whoever belonged to the third set did not walk away. The bloodstained ground and the abandoned elven knives paint a picture I would rather not think about. I wonder if the knives I found earlier were the real thing or some sort of illusion created by the shades that have been guiding me. My hand goes automatically to the hilt of one of them. It feels real enough, but the ones I carried before did as well, so I am uncertain. Can they make phantom objects seem to temporarily have substance? 

As if understanding my inquiry, I notice again a knife identical to the ones I’ve picked up before lying in the path. This time, though when I look at my belt, the two I placed there are still quite comfortingly in place. I reach to pick up the third one. It feels heavy and solid in my hand, but when I attempt to use it to cut a notch in the wooden handle of my axe, it suddenly becomes as sand in my hand and then as a wisp of cloud that fades away. I jerk my hand back as if the ghostly weapon burnt it, and again I wonder how I managed to get in this scrape. But now is not the time to lose courage. So it seems these apparitions can form mock objects that have no practical use. Perhaps this is why they have led me to this place, they need my flesh and blood form to help them with some agenda. 

I start to move toward the opening of the cave when ghostly human forms take shape and surround me. Hundreds of them are in front of me and lined up behind me as far as I can see down the path. Unlike the cursed wraiths of the oath breakers, these shades appear as ordinary humans. Their expressions speak of untold torture and agony and every single one appears to be holding a weapon of some kind. I do not understand the significance of this and they cannot seem to be able to communicate in any conventional way and before I can even begin to form a question they are seemingly gone again. At least I can no longer see them, though I feel the pressure of being propelled forward and intense buzzing rings in my ears.

I creep slowly forward to the cave’s opening and look down over what appears to be a camp of sorts. A fire glows in the centre of the cavern and some men sleep on the ground while others walk around guarding the area. On closer inspection I can see boxes, trunks and barrels spilling over with what can only be stolen goods plundered from local villages or pirated from ships. I shudder at the sight for it can only mean one thing. Corsairs! These wicked men are famous for their brutal cruelty and torture of their prisoners and it is rumoured that they make a lively trade in slave trafficking. My blood runs cold when I realize they have managed to get their evil hands on my friend. I must find a way to free him, for leaving him behind is not an option. I can only hope the shades that have been with me so far continue to help me. They do not let me down.

Almost faster than I can perceive, the tiniest pinpoint of light buzzes past me, across the cavern floor and stops in front of a cell toward the end of the cavern before going out. I take this to mean that Legolas is being held there. My first instinct is to go directly to him, but my common sense tells me this is not feasible. There are at least seventy men below me and I will not be able to stand against them alone, even though I am currently armed to the teeth with an axe in one hand, two throwing axes at my side and two daggers slipped into my belt. Still I am outnumbered at least seventy to one and I know the odds are impossible no matter how skilled I may be with weaponry. 

The buzzing around me intensifies as if to remind me that I am not alone after all and the filmy shapes begin to take visible form again only this time they are much easier to see. Again they all appear to carry weapons, but I do not see how this will help me since their weapons are clearly illusions that have no power in battle. Then it dawns on me. The weapons do not need to be real; we only need to convince these men that they are real. I suddenly understand what they want me to do.

A bright flash of light appears from somewhere behind me and a great wailing and screeching assaults my ears. Great masses of shades pour out from the cave and into the main room until their army eclipses the group of men by twenty times at least. The otherworldly sounds they make send chills down my spine and succeed in getting the attention of the men below us. One after another, they rise up from the ground, eyes growing wide in fear as they take in the terrifying sight of the massive army before them. Some cover their ears, others back up against the wall or cower behind some of the loot filled barrels, but one giant of a man only laughs caustically and lifts his scimitar high above his head. This must be their captain.

“Idiots!” he shouts, “Never have I seen such a pathetic group of curs, whimpering and crawling on your bellies because of a harmless bunch of shadows! What harm can such do to flesh and blood men? Their weapons are useless against us. They could not stop us during their pitiful lives and they cannot now that they are merely echoes of the once living. Are you little girls afraid of wisps of smoke?”

The men all break out into laughter and begin to go about their business as if they can no longer see the crowd of ghosts surrounding them. I take this as my cue to act. I must convince them that there is ample reason to fear! Lifting my axe, I heave it as far as I can into the centre of the cavern. It lands with a grand crash in the glowing coals of the fire, sending sparks almost to the cavern ceiling and puffs of ash in all directions. A collective gasp is heard as the men realize this was no phantom weapon. The captain steps forward to see what has occurred, but before he can take a second step I take one of the knives from my belt and send it spinning through the air. It lands neatly right in the middle of his chest and sticks there. He collapses to the dirt floor and his men rush to his side. When the crowd draws near him, I say a prayer that it will be enough to convince them and hurl a throwing axe into the mass. It finds a target, splitting the skull of one of the men. Chaos breaks out. Shades descend en mass to the floor. Men run for cover. I must take advantage of the pandemonium to make my move before anyone realizes this was not the work of ghosts.

I rush to the cavern floor in the midst of the shades, hoping to blend in with them. As I dart to the cell that is housing my friend, I hope he is in good enough condition to run, for our time is undoubtedly limited. If I must carry him out it will make escape nearly impossible. There will be no time to assess injuries either, until we are well away from this place, so I can only hope for the best.

Picking the lock is easier than I had dared hope. They are not complicated, but are designed in a way that they can only be reached from outside the cell, over to the side so the poor prisoner has no hope of escaping that way. I slip inside and catch my first glimpse of my elfling.

I am shocked at the copious amounts of dried blood in his hair, but am thankful that it is not fresh and still flowing. He is slumped sideways against the stone wall with his eyes closed and that worries me as well for I know it means he is unconscious for no one could sleep through the racket going on around us. Of course he might be faking, having heard the rattling of the locks. 

I hurry to his side and tentatively reach out to touch his cheek in a gesture he is familiar with and am gratified when he startles a bit. Thank the Valar for that!  
“Can ye get to your feet, Lamb?” I ask in a whisper. His eyes pop open and I recognize the pain and apprehension in them, but he just nods once. Taking the remaining knife from my belt, I press it into his palm and am elated when his fist closes around the hilt. Things are looking up!

 

XXXX  
I think I have only been unconscious for a very short time, but I am unsure, I blink in an attempt to clear my eyes a soft touch on my cheek and a whispered “Can ye get to your feet, Lamb?” have called me back from wherever my mind had gone.

Gimli … I am so happy to see him and grateful when he presses one of my ivory handled knives into my hand, Gimli helps me to my feet urging me to hurry and I try to do so, even while my brain tries to understand how he has managed to free me.

“What happened?” I croak as I follow him out of the cage

“No time for that! Come Laddie, let’s get out of here while we can.”

I stare in amazement at the hundreds of shades that now fill the cavern, their cries and screams echo around making my ears ring. The Corsairs are in disarray but they are many, we are but two and I am hardly in a fit state to fight, Gimli is right we must make our escape while we can. I follow my friend across the floor, the ghosts of the slaves surrounding and shielding us. I am about to step up onto the pathway that will lead us up to the tunnels when I spot my other knife. It is sticking out of the chest of the Corsair captain, Gimli’s favourite throwing axe is nearby having split open the skull of another of the pirates.

I will not leave my Adar’s gift in such a place! Even as Gimli makes an abortive grab at my tunic I jump down onto the floor and make for the centre of the cave intent on retrieving both my knife and his axe.

I ignore his frustrated bellow and demand to get back and sprint to the fire pit. Collecting the axe and then my knife, I turn to find three of the pirates standing between me and freedom. Drawing deeply on my reserves I spin and slash, taking out two with little trouble, the third comes at me again but then falls at my feet another axe in his back, I look up to see Gimli glaring at me and gesturing for me to come on. Pulling the axe from the pirates back I leap over the bodies of the others and join Gimli. While he says nothing I know he is struggling with his feelings over what I have just done. Relief wars with anger, and I suspect I know which one will win when we are safely away from this terrible place.  
The ghostly army of men, women, and children form up behind us, providing us with a spectral rearguard their constant movements whip up the dirt and cloak our departure and we gain the top tunnel without further trouble.

“They will follow us,” I warn him

“Aye I know. They willn’a want us to raise the alarm, keep moving lad.”

Gimli is looking around even while pushing me ahead of him down the tunnel. The ghosts continue to accompany us, some ahead, their glow showing the way, some behind still doing their best to cover our retreat.

We reach the first branch of the tunnel and hurry through I find I am panting and have to put one hand onto the stone wall to keep from falling.

Gimli stands looking at the stone that partially screened the side passage and the fierce grin I see on his face seems very much at odds to our present situation.  
He turns to me and takes my arm again shaking it to make sure he has my full attention “Now listen to me lamb, I want you to keep moving. Do not stop until you reach the spot where the horses are tethered, if I have not joined you in an hour, take the animals get out of here and raise the alarm.”

“But Gimli”

“No buts lamb, I don’t need you here for what I intend to do and you can only just about stand, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you are struggling. I dinna want to be worrying about you, go.”

He swings me round and swats my backside to urge me on my way and I find that I am being borne away by the shades that are still surrounding us whether I wish to go or not. I attempt to look back and my last glimpse of my friend is of him raising his great battle axe high above his head.

I am stumbling now and was it not for the fact that the ghosts are offering their support I fear I might not have made it down the next passageway without falling over. As it is I am almost knocked off my feet by the sudden movement of stone beneath me, loud crashing echoes down the tunnel system followed by billowing dust and choking debris.  
He has brought down the tunnel to block their path, but at what cost?

“Gimli!” the cry is torn from my throat.

I turn to go back only to hear the thunderous sound of a dwarf running and he emerges from the dust laughing and brandishing his great axe.  
“Take on a dwarf would they, hah!” He takes my elbow and hurries me onwards, “that will slow them down some, but the chances are there are other passages they might use. We still have to hurry.”

I have little time to reply trying to keep upright and moving is difficult enough. I am so happy to see Arod and the pack beast waiting for us. While I would sooner not ride through the dark if we are to escape it will be necessary to do so, so I mount up and pull Gimli up behind me.  
The ghosts surround us their glow providing us with sufficient light to guide us and we turn Arod towards the far door in the mountain and freedom.  
I do not know how soon it is before I pass out again but it is the feel of fresh air on my face and the reassertion of my natural link to the trees that wakes me. I lift my head and see light ahead.

We are approaching the cleft in the rock that leads to the outside; behind me Gimli releases the iron grip he has had on my waist as he feels me straighten.  
“Glad to have ye back with me lamb; these shades don’t have much in the way of conversation, glad though I’ve been to have them with us this day.”

I see that the ghosts are still with us, and wonder at it, will they be able to go beyond the door or are they trapped under the mountain like the cursed Army of the Dead.  
I wonder what it is we can do to help them and once again my dwarven companion is ahead of me in his thinking. As Arod steps into the late afternoon, Gimli tugs gently on my back braid a signal for me to stop and we both slide down from Arod’s back to face the shades of the Rohirrim people caught and killed by the Corsairs.

I give them my best obeisance and offer our thanks for their help, assuring them that we will let Eomer King and Elessar know of their service to us. This seems to please them for there is a soft murmuring from the thronged shades.

“Aye, that we will but we would do more” Gimli chimes in “When the Army of the Dead fulfilled their oath they were free to depart this accursed place, I am guessing what keeps you here is the presence of those damned slavers. You have our word that they will be hunted down and brought to justice, for all their crimes.”

This causes great excitement and when we depart the mountain we see that already the shades are beginning to fade, it seems our word is sufficient to release them from their watch.

When the last one has dissipated in the breeze I turn my face to Gimli’s knowing that I am about to face his quite justifiable anger.


	4. Chapter 4

We stand watching until the last of the shades have paled and faded away and I cannot help heaving a sigh of relief when they are gone. I am grateful, of course, for their crucial assistance for I dare not think what might have happened had they not been there to help. But I still shudder to think that I have had such a close encounter with the tormented spirits of those who should have remained dead. Just because I am willing to wade through ghosts to rescue my errant elfling does not mean I wanted to prolong the ordeal by waiting while he risked his life to save our weapons. In fact I’m not the least bit amused by this whole situation.

I turn to face my charge to find that he is already watching me expectantly. He knows he has managed to step in it deep this time. He knew it from the moment he set up the prank that began this whole mess, though I suspect he had no idea things would go south so rapidly. Looking at him now, he seems decidedly worried, which is odd considering he didn’t even blink about slitting the throats of two heavily armed Corsair pirates. Is facing the penalty for transgressions more frightening than risking life and limb for a mere weapon? After all he knew how it would end when he began this and he knows I would never cause him any real harm, unlike the pirates who would have killed or maimed him if they could. It is a puzzle indeed.

Maybe it is having to be faced with his own poor behaviour that is difficult or perhaps it is the humbling nature of the act itself. Of course there is also the fact that with the pirates there was a chance of escaping unscathed, which is something he knows is impossible in this case. Perhaps another day I will ask him about it, but now is not the time. We need to make haste to get far from this place. 

“Come, Lad, let’s go,”

His expression registers surprise, confirming my suspicions that he thought he was about to face my wrath on the spot. I have to admit it is tempting after what he has put me through. It is a wonder my hair has not already gone completely white. Yet he is injured and we must put some distance between us and this cursed path. He will just have to stew over it until I am certain we are safe and he is well enough.

“Let’s go!” I repeat as I pull him toward Arod. He mounts up and gives me a hand and we are on our way. We will not be able to go far this day, but fortunately these mountains will make it difficult for anyone to follow us. This place is riddled with caves and deep fissures in the ground, not to mention that the trees are just beginning to lose their foliage so they also provide ample cover. We also have the advantage of being able to stop in a high place where we can see enemies coming from leagues away. Just to be safe though, we walk the horses down the centre of a shallow stream to mask any tracks we might leave behind otherwise. We follow the stream downhill for a long while before leaving it and making our way upward again. As soon as we crest the next hill, I decide to call a halt. We desperately need to recuperate from the events of the day and I am finding I am supporting Legolas’ weight more and more as we go. 

This site is high enough to see a long distance away and there is a rock ledge that we can shelter under should the weather turn inclement. There is also another shallow stream where we can find fresh water for drinking and for cleaning up. I for one feel the need to wash the dust and grime away for it grits in my teeth and my eyes are full of it. Legolas must agree with me for as soon as we have cared for the horses he heads for the cold water to wash up. I join him and watch as the flowing water carries our filth down the mountain.

After changing to cleaner attire, I return to the stream to find Legolas attempting to wash the dried blood from his hair. It is a difficult task since the water is shallow and it is mostly in the back where he cannot reach it easily. I offer my assistance, which he readily accepts by sitting on a nearby stone and handing me the metal cup he has been using to dip the water. As I wash away the dried blood, I am able to get a closer look at the wound he has sustained. There is a large swelling, but the cut is already healing quite well it seems. Of course I am no healer, and it would be best to have someone who knows better than me to look him over, which is something we will do as soon as we reach the city. By then there may be nothing to look at since he heals amazingly fast most of the time. Taking time to rest will speed the process. 

We will have to make do with provisions we brought with us again tonight since Legolas is in no condition to hunt, and I am not inclined to leave him to do it myself. At least we have fresh water that we can boil to make tea. Legolas objects when I add some pain-relieving herbs to his cup. 

“That will make me sleepy,” he says, frowning.

“Aye, I know, Lad. I believe that is the point,” I tell him.

“Gimli, you must let me take at least half the watch tonight. It is my fault we were in this predicament in the first place. I don’t want the tea.”  
“Do ye not think ye are already in enough trouble without arguing with me?” I growl, beginning to get fed up.

“Well yes, I suppose so,” he says grimacing, “but it is just that I don’t feel right letting you watch over me while I sleep the night away when I was the one who followed the Corsairs in the first place.”

I do a double take at his words. Did I hear that right? He followed them? And after I had just said he was not to leave my side! How stupid of me to assume they had come upon him where he was keeping watch. I should have known he would want to chase trouble instead of waiting for it to find him. I feel my face grow hot as my temper begins to rise, but I manage to keep my voice deadly calm.

“You did what?” I ask, hoping I misunderstood him but knowing I probably did not.

“Of course I didn’t know they were Corsairs at first. They were just shadowy figures, but I wanted to know where they were going and since there was nothing dangerous in those caves I followed them to find out. At least that is what I thought at the time.”

“So let me get this straight,” I say between clenched teeth, “You thought it was safe so that made it perfectly acceptable to go off on your own investigating shadowy figures in SPITE of the fact that I had just said ye were not to leave my side while we were on that road? Did ye think we had left the road? Or perhaps ye thought I was jesting or ye didn’t understand what I said? Which was it, because I need to make sure we get it right next time.”

“Gimli?”

“WHAT?”

“You didn’t know I followed them did you?”

“Of course I didn’t know! I thought ye had more sense than that ye feather brained elfling!” 

He cringes and rubs his forehead, likely wondering why he didn’t keep his mouth shut instead of hanging himself by giving out so much information. Justice I call it! Brought on by a guilty conscience no doubt. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers, opening one eye to look at me and then closes it again when he sees my expression.

“Not nearly as sorry as you are going to be, I’d wager,” I point out and then continue scolding. “When are ye going to learn to think things through, Lad? Ye know it is beyond foolish to go off like that following who knows what! Have ye any idea what those wicked pirates might have done to ye, had they had the chance? It doesn’t bear thinking about! And then to go back after those blasted weapons when we were almost free. What on Arda were ye thinking, Lad?”

“Those knives have sentimental value,” he explains, “they were a gift…”

“I know they were a gift from your father,” I interrupt, “but he also gave you the gift of life. Which do you think is easier to replace? And besides you were not concerned about sentiment when you played that prank that ended with my great grandfather, Farin’s, safety lantern being destroyed.”

His mouth drops open and his eyes grow large with remorse as he begins to stammer.

“Elvellon, I am so sorry. I had no idea…I would never have done it had I known…” For a moment it looks like he might begin to weep and I cannot continue the charade. He is about done in as it is without my making it worse, and I regret my ill-timed jest. 

I put an arm around him and pull him next to me so that his head rests on my shoulder.

“I am only teasing, Child, “I assure him, “I borrowed it from my brother in law right before we left on this journey.” I poke a finger into his chest. “But you owe Thorûr a new lantern!” 

He chokes on a half sob, half laugh, and buries his face in my shoulder while nodding. I briefly rub his back and then reach for his hand and place the cooling cup of tea into it.   
“Drink the tea, Lamb before ye unwittingly confess to every incident of mischief ye’ve managed to get into over the past year,” I advise him. “We shall talk of this later when I am certain ye’re sound. We willn’a speak of it again tonight. ”

He gives in and sips at the tea, finishing it when he sees that I am watching to see that he does so. With the harrowing events of the last couple of days combined with the effects of the pain relieving herbs, it isn’t long before Legolas is struggling to stay awake, though he still stubbornly refuses to give in. After suggesting that he sleep several times, I finally have to insist on it, which causes him to glare at me briefly before wrapping himself in his blanket and lying down on the ground. I offer my own blanket to use as a pillow, which he accepts readily enough though he still can’t seem to lie still or close his eyes. I cannot imagine what the problem is until I hear a dull thud and a hiss. My heart jumps in my chest and I nearly leap to my feet, while Legolas sits up, as startled as I am. It is only a log settling on the fire, but we are both still on edge it seems. It occurs to me if my nerves are rattled his must be even more so. Though he may never admit to having been afraid, it must have been a terrifying experience to find himself imprisoned in that dark cell. I want to offer comfort, but implying that I suspect he is nervous might be a blow to his already dented pride, which is something I do not wish to do, so instead I give him my best glower.

“Ye shan’t be disappearing during the night anymore this trip,” I say in my most convincing warning voice. “I will be glued to ye’re side until ye awake in the morning, so do not even think about trying anything! Now be still and go to sleep, Elfling!” 

With those words, I move over next to him until I can grasp his hand firmly as if to keep him at my side. He makes the obligatory grumbling sounds, but I notice he does not try to remove his hand and within minutes manages to fall into a deep sleep. I am satisfied knowing that a long period of rest will work wonders to heal his injuries and he will likely wake up tomorrow nearly as good as new. 

 

XXXXX  
I wonder if I am the only elf who was born with his foot in his mouth. I must remember to ask Ada the next time I see him, although I will have to be very careful I do not tell him why I would like to know.

He would likely be as angry as Gimli is presently and who could blame him? Certainly not me. An angry dwarf is a frightening creature, not in the way that he would hurt me. At least not permanently! No I mean he is frightening because of the intensity of his love for those he cares for. It is concern and worry that makes him fierce. I know it and some part of me is happy because of it. Of course another part of me, specifically my rear end, is anything but happy with what is to come and there is no doubting that it is to come … the only question is when?

I would prefer it to be sooner rather than later but Gimli’s care of me and concern over my injury probably means I am going to have to wait and if there is anything worse than the punishment itself it is being made to wait for it.

We have not travelled too far but at least our present camp is on high enough ground to ensure we would see anyone following us, although I do not think the Corsairs will try to do so, given so many of them lost their lives in Gimli’s attack.

I know Gimli is angered by my conduct especially my going after the pirates and then going back for his axe and my knife but I do not regret what I did, for those poor shades needed to be freed from their horror. And I would never leave Ada’s knife or Gimli’s axe behind if there were any opportunity of retrieving them.

Having cleaned ourselves up and Gimli having decided my head wound will not kill me, he is now intent on making me swallow a pain killing draught, which will be sure to make me sleepy but I am determined to take my share of the watch. I do not wish to sleep; yet the draught, my injury, and the exhaustion of my body keep trying to drag me into slumber, and I have to fight to remain awake.

For with sleep will come dreams, dreams I do not want to have. My time in the hands of the Corsairs has unnerved me. I keep hearing their voices, their foul comments, taunts, and threats of what they wished to do with me, and I am finding it hard to put it out of my mind. I would dearly like to tell Gimli how I am feeling but I do not wish to upset him by sharing such information. He has suffered enough because of me.

Yet once again he seems to understand me better than I do myself and what is more he allows me to keep up the pretence by pretending he is only holding onto me to stop me trying to slip away and finding mischief. I know better. His kindness is something I do not deserve, yet I cannot but be grateful for it, for with Gimli’s strength and his hand on my arm I know I will be able to sleep in peace. No bad dreams will dare to come with Gimli Gloinson on guard.


	5. Chapter 5

The night is uneventful and quiet with the exception of when Legolas stirs restlessly a time or two in the night, though a few words is all it takes for him to settle back into sleep. It is well past dawn by the time he wakes up for real; as I thought would be the case, he already looks much improved. This is good news indeed, though he seems a little apprehensive when I point this out, likely remembering our talk from yesterday. Being proven well means he is that much closer to having to answer for his misdeeds and while he might rather have it done with, it still isn’t an easy thing to face. Of course I have no intention of laying a hand on him until he can see someone who knows more about the healing arts than I do. I am still frustrated enough to let him sweat over his fate, though, so I do not bother to inform him of this little detail.

He gives me furtive glances all through first meal and while we begin to break camp, but I just keep the conversation light and keep working.

Before we are ready to leave, though, we spot something in the distance. It is a group of men; riders from Gondor. As we make our way down the mountain to meet them, it becomes clear that they are a patrol from the White City and we are surprised to see that their king is among them! It seems he has ridden out with the patrol specifically to meet us and spend the last leg of the journey in our company. His life has changed so that he now considers it a holiday to get out of the city and sleep on the ground for a few nights. We quickly explain what has occurred under the mountain and Aragorn makes a decision that two men will return to the city for reinforcements while the others-himself included-will wait here for their return. We will not be leaving this day after all.

We have to laugh when Aragorn’s personal guard begin setting up the king’s travelling tent. His days of sleeping out in the open are finished it seems no matter how much he may long to return to a simpler life. While the men are making camp, Aragorn questions us for more details of our adventure of the last couple of days. When it becomes known that Legolas was injured during the ordeal, the king insists on making a thorough examination despite protests that it isn’t necessary.

“You must have a very hard head, my friend,” is his verdict, “for there is hardly a mark left on you.” He frowns and continues. “ I do hope that blow knocked some sense into you though, for you weren’t showing much when you decided to follow those pirates.”

“If that didn’t do it, I soon will try my hand at the task,” I state. “Now that I know all is well, we will not have to postpone our discussion of this issue much longer.”   
“You say that as if it is good news, “ Legolas mutters under his breath. I pat his arm, but I do not think he finds the gesture overly reassuring.

The rest of the day is spent planning strategies for invading the Lair of the Corsairs. Aragorn is decidedly animated while making these plans. If I didn’t know better I might believe he was almost happy for this opportunity to be involved in something that is more interesting than the endless meetings, volumes of documents that must be approved, and all the other little details that take up so much of a king’s time. On the other hand Legolas is uncharacteristically quiet as he keeps a wary eye on me throughout the day. I know I am going to have to find the opportunity to end his misery soon but it is past twilight before I find the chance to do so.

When Aragorn asks me if I am willing to take the first evening watch, I quickly agree and grab Legolas by the arm saying we can watch together from the place where we camped last night. From that height we can easily watch over the men camping at the base of the hill, while still being out of sight from onlookers ourselves. Aragorn nods, understanding the situation but makes no comment himself and we make our way back to where we spent last night. I do not worry about someone coming upon us for I know Aragorn will prevent anyone from seeking us out for the first part of our watch at least. I hope the sounds of the trickling water and the wind in the trees will drown out any noise we might generate, for this is hardly a quiet venture, but if it does not there is nothing to be done about it. It is the best privacy I can manage under the circumstances, so it will just have to suffice.

We do not speak until we have reached the crest of the hill and found our campsite from last night. There is no point in putting this off any longer, so I find a good-sized smooth boulder and take a seat. I crook my finger and my elfling drags himself over to me and kneels on the ground in front of me. I place a hand on each side of his face and lift it so that I can look into his eyes.

“I canna bear the thought of something happening to ye, Lamb,” I say simply.

“I know, Elvellon and I am sorry,” he whispers.

“Aye, I know ye are, but being sorry doesn’t excuse you does it? This time ye came way too close to disaster. Ye must learn to think first instead of just reacting, do ye understand that?”

He nods in answer and I decide there is nothing else to say that hasn’t already been said last night. There is no point in delaying this any longer. I move back and pat my lap and he groans a little. He would much prefer that I just haul him across my lap as I normally would rather than making him place himself there voluntarily, but I intend for him to remember this for a long time. He begins to place himself in the required position but when I clear my throat meaningfully he gets back to his knees and looks at me   
questioningly. I only have to raise one eyebrow for him to get my meaning, but even so he hesitates for several heartbeats before fumbling at the ties of his suede trousers. Even after he manages to get the ties loose, I have to clear my throat one more time before he quickly lowers the trousers and places himself across my lap.

I give him only a moment to adjust to being upside down and to wriggle into place before I bring one hand crashing down leaving a large handprint on his fair skin. I place a matching one on the other side and continue in this fashion until the handprints run together and the skin of his backside and thighs become an even shade of glowing red. As always he puts a lot of effort into being still and remaining quiet, and as always fails to do so. He does not exactly try to get away, but he does rock from side to side as if to keep me from hitting my mark. It is a frivolous exercise, for I just tighten my grip on his waist and increase my pace. That is when I really must harden my heart and close my ears to his pleas and promises of better behaviour. I cannot afford to be soft in this situation, for it is vital that he understands my thoughts on how dangerous his actions of yesterday were. It is when he finally quits struggling that I bring it to an end and begin to rub his back soothingly. He does not move away immediately for I suspect it takes a few moments for him to realize it has ended.

When he does finally slide from my lap to the ground in front of me, I leave it to him to decide whether to replace the stiff trousers he is wearing or leave them where they are. Evidently the pain of pulling them over his scorched skin is better than the humiliation of the more comfortable choice since he carefully raises them back into place. He does not bother with the ties, though, but just hurls himself into my arms. I hold him for several minutes, offering soft words of comfort and then I move to sit on the ground and guide the lad to lie on his side next to me with his head in my lap. I silently stroke his hair as he tries to get his breathing under control. After a while he releases a long quavering breath and then a sigh.

“It was a rough day wasn’t it?” I say.

“Not so rough for you,” he points out with a doleful sniff, “unless your arm is tired or something.”

I roll my shoulder to test it out. “No not tired,” I chuckle. “But I was talking about yesterday, Lad. That must have been a frightening experience for ye, being held captive like that. I for one was terrified out of my wits from the moment we set foot in that place. Of course there is nothing to fear now for we will have no problem despatching the remaining pirate scum, once the reinforcements arrive.”

His only comment is a deep shudder.

 

XXXXX  
It is over, it is done. I have paid the proper price for my conduct and been given absolution by my guardian. Now he holds me close and gives me the comfort I am so desperate for. His words are like a balm to my guilty conscience and I drink them in happy to lie down with my head in his lap as his hand which so lately was belabouring my backside begins carding gently through my hair.

“It was a rough day wasn’t it?” he says.

“Not so rough for you,” I point out with a doleful sniff, “unless your arm is tired or something”

“No not tired,” I feel the rumble of his laughter before I hear his chuckle. “But I was talking about yesterday, Lad. That must have been a frightening experience for ye, being held captive like that. I for one was terrified out of my wits from the moment we set foot in that place. Of course there is nothing to fear now for we will have no problem despatching the remaining pirate scum, once the reinforcements arrive.”

I cannot hide the shudder his words engender in me and immediately he wants to know what is amiss, and I know he is not going to be happy with me if I say ‘nothing’ so I swallow hard and finally tell him exactly what was threatened while the Corsairs held me captive.

“Oh Lamb” he envelops me in his strong arms, and I cling to him for a moment or two before looking up into his dark eyes.

“I … I am not so naive that I did not know such things as rape happen, but amongst my folk it is unheard of to offer such violence on an innocent. I was lucky that they wished to keep me pure until I was sold on the slave blocks in Umbar, but so many others before me were not so fortunate. Those sad shades that rallied to your side must have suffered terribly before they found release in death. Yet even in death they were not fully free. We must make sure that all the vermin within those caves are destroyed if the ghosts are to be laid finally to rest.”

“And we will lad.” Gimli assures me, “between us we will see right is done, but for now, you need your rest. Aragorn will be waiting for ye in his pavilion, and I will come to you as soon as my watch is done.” Before I can object to this plan, he adds, “Ye need your sleep lamb. We will all need to be fully refreshed when we take on that scum back in the mountain”

I cannot argue with that sentiment much as I would like to. When he goes on to say that he also needs his rest, and that he will not be able to sleep unless he knows I am resting properly and gives me that smile of his, there is nothing more I can do than capitulate and promise I will seek my bed as soon as I have spoken to Aragorn.

He helps me to get to my feet and reorder my clothing, then wishes me a good night, and sends me on my way with a pat on my abused rear.

I turn before I leave him determined to say what is needful. I duck my head as he looks up at me and whisper, “Thank you, Gimli, thank you for everything you do for me.”  
I am sure he is blushing but he blusters and mumbles “Get on with you lad.”

So I do.


	6. Chapter 6

XXXXX  
Our small faction of a dozen men has become an encampment for three hundred. The air crackles with anticipation and excitement for tonight is the night we will invade the Corsair lair. We have been camping in this valley for five days and last night the reinforcements arrived, so now we are only waiting for first dark before we make our way back to the mountain, meaning we will arrive in the middle of the night. It is mid afternoon now and everyone is making preparations, donning armour, checking weapons. I myself have done that already and now need to find a chance to voice my opinion about a few things. 

I find the two I am looking for standing outside the king’s pavilion. Legolas and Aragorn are involved in a lively discussion about the versatility of fighting with knives over the sheer power of using a sword. Cleary they are both eager for this invasion, which is not what I hoped for, since I wish to talk them both out of taking part. Very likely it is a futile attempt, but I intend to have my say anyway. 

“Just the pair I was looking for,” I say taking them each by an arm and leading them inside the king’s tent. “I would have a word with you both.”  
Both pairs of eyes watch me expectantly as I search for the right words to say. “We are over three hundred strong and we far outnumber the enemy. It is not necessary for all to go in.”

Aragorn looks confused. “Is there someone you have doubts about?” he asks. But Legolas understands my meaning right away and immediately begins campaigning for me to change my mind.   
“I must go back in there, Gimli,” he pleads, “I need to see this finished, else I will be haunted the rest of my days.”  
That is just what I expected him to say, and though I am not surprised, I am a little saddened. I do not wish for him to ever have to be involved in battle again, and I especially do not want him to have to face those wicked vulgar men who took him captive and made their vile threats, though I would love the chance to separate their filthy heads from their shoulders myself. Still I can see he is very distraught at the thought of not being allowed to take part and I do not want that either. I pat his arm reassuringly.  
“No need to carry on so, I am not forbidding anything, Lad,” I say, “I merely wanted to remind ye that no one would think less of ye if ye’d rather stay back.” I give his arm a shake to make certain he is listening and lower my voice warningly. “That does not mean you are free to try every dangerous stunt that comes to mind, however. Try to stay in my sight, and no crazy moves. Never think I am not watching you.”  
He nods eagerly, ready to agree to anything in his relief. It is better than being made to stay back. I then turn my attention to my other friend who has been watching us in amusement, likely wondering how he is involved in all this. I point a warning finger in his face.

“And you! You have no business whatsoever going into battle,” I tell him, “the good people of Gondor need their king and it would be the pinnacle of foolishness to risk yourself in a skirmish such as this one.” 

“If what you say about their numbers is true, it could hardly be a considered a risk,” he laughs, “Besides that is one of the boons of being King. I get to have final say in these matters. I wouldn’t miss the chance to exterminate those vermin for anything. I am off to lead my men into battle!” 

He turns on his heel and marches toward the exit, but is stopped short when Legolas grabs the back of his collar.

“You mean you are off to assign someone to lead the men into battle,” he corrects him, “Gimli is right, you cannot take such a risk yourself.”

“Why not?”

“What do ye mean why not, ye crazy idiot!” I shout, “Ye have people who are relying on you!”

“Not to mention the number of people besides the two of us who would have your name in their black books,” Legolas points out. “All of your advisors for one.”  
“And your personal guards.”

“Your Steward.”

“Do not forget about your foster brothers.”

“Your lovely wife”

“Possibly even Lord Elrond would get wind of it and return to Middle Earth…”

Aragorn laughs out loud at that idea. “Very well,” he says cordially, “You have convinced me. I am off to assign someone to lead the men into battle.”

By his cheerful smile and quick agreement I now realize he was never in earnest about leading the men, but was just trying to get a rise out of us and distract me from the idea that he should not be involved at all. He is very clever that one, and also very determined to do as he pleases. I look around and see a mail shirt and a breastplate tossed carelessly on the dirt floor of the tent. I pick it up and shove it forcefully into Aragorn’s arms.

“At least wear the bloody Armour, Human!” I grumble.

Hours later our army waits silently for the order to enter the door to Dimholt road. As the door opens and we begin to file cautiously in, I notice four well lit tunnels, likely all leading to one place. A great host of shades begin to show themselves to us. With the throng of soldiers we have, both human and formerly human, we will be impossible to defeat. Those pirate bastards are about to meet justice.

 

XXXXX  
We sweep through the tunnels mortal, immortal alike accompanied by those tortured shades trapped here by the cruelties inflicted upon them by the Corsairs who are anxious to finally find their peace in that green and pleasant land beyond the veil.

I hope that our actions today will allow them the freedom to do that, and will also grant me release from the memories that haunt me from my time in that accursed cage. I do not usually thirst for revenge nor do I seek to bring death upon innocents, but the pirates remaining in the cave system deserve death and I am happy to be able to be a part in dealing out their fate. Whatever awaits them beyond their death today I do not believe they will ever be granted peace at least until after proper judgment has been dealt upon them.

Aragorn spoke to all of us before we entered the door into the mountain. He usually prefers to bring people to proper justice and to give them an opportunity to repent of their evil, but not this day. Having heard what I had been threatened with and the horrific fates of those innocent villagers from Rohan he has declared today none are to be left alive unless they sue for clemency which they will not do. He was also careful to explain to his soldiers what they were likely to meet ere they entered the Road through the mountain and to give any who preferred not to interact with the ghosts of Rohan an opportunity to remain in the camp.

I do not think any chose to do so; some had seen the Army of the Dead swarm over the Pelennor and into the White City, cleansing it of the Orc and Uruk-Hai. Others would follow wherever their king chose to lead them and a few had relatives or friends who had suffered at the hands of the Corsairs and wished to exact some king of revenge upon them. Whatever their reasons with such a large number we have a greater chance of clearing out all the pirate scum and once the path they used to enter unseen from the river is found we can block the entrance so that the caves cannot be used for such villainy again.

We have met with no resistance so far and have now reached the Stone of Summoning; ahead of us four tunnels are ablaze with the ghostly lights the shades from Rohan provide. We split into four groups and I do not think it is by accident that Gimli, Aragorn, and I are all together. Gimli was unlikely to let either of us go off without him!  
I should feel angry that he is so protective of us and me in particular for I have been acknowledged as an unparalleled warrior for more than four yeni even amongst my own folk, but I am not. His love for me is so strong, like a father to a son, and while I may resent my friend’s restrictions and fussing occasionally, I know he does it for the best and because he cares for me just as Adar does.

I am amused by how different his approach to the ghosts we have encountered on this journey is compared to the first time we walked this path. While I suspect he will always be wary of anything that is ‘unnatural’ as Samwise would say, I can see he has come to understand that most spirits are not harmful and only wish our help to free them from the tethers that hold them here and prevent them moving on. Not to mention of course that it was because of them that he found and rescued me, I am sure I heard him muttering his thanks to one of the many Rohirrim shades that stood by him waiting for the signal to attack.

He turns as if he knows my thoughts and gives me his patented glare and I return as innocent expression as possible. Growling he tells me to ‘take heed of the job in hand and stop grinning like a loon’.

I think I had better concentrate on the job at hand, else I will have to answer to a fractious Gimli, and I am still sore from our last encounter. He hefts his axe and his eyes take on the gleam of battle. I know he is thirsting for revenge for my ordeal and the blade of his axe will be bloodied many times this day if he has his way, as long as he can keep half an eye on where I am of course.

The light flickers; the signal to begin our advance and I grip my knives more securely for we are now moving at a rapid pace and where a moment ago there was nought but silence now there is yelling and howling from both those of us who live and the ghosts. A strong wind seems to come up from nowhere the mists whirl about us and behind us forming so kind of supernatural barrier as we swarm into the centre of the cave where I was being held.

There is a clash of steel upon steel, and I can hear Gimli roaring his own unique battle cry as we surge forward.

The battle is brief and bloody on the side of the Corsairs at least. The sanded floor is soon covered with their lifeless bodies and as Aragorn’s guard begin a systematic search of the caves to ensure that none have escaped Gimli, Aragorn and I remain in the main cavern the shades of the dead clustered about us.

The spectres shift and sway around us some so close that the tendrils of mist seem to reach out and touch our faces and I have to hide a smile as Gimli blows at the mist to prevent it getting too close to him.

It was Aragorn who released the Army of the Dead but this time he seems to be waiting for either Gimli or myself to say something.  
Gimli clears his throat and indicates I should speak my words are heartfelt and I hope sufficient to break the hold this foul place has on them. Simply put I thank them for their help in gaining my release and promise them that from now on a guard will be placed at the part of the river where the pirates moored their black ships. Aragorn nods his agreement with this and adds that the cleft in the cliff where the Corsairs gained access to the caves will be blocked.

“Go in peace.” I urge them, “None shall suffer at the hands of these pirates as you did, and your work here is done. It is time to move on and find the rest you all deserve, Bema protect you on your journey.”

“Aye, do what the laddie says,” Gimli growls beside me “He is speaking good sound sense for a change, and there is no reason to keep you here now, and to be frank, I would sooner not have to meet with ye every time we take this road, a dwarf likes to find peace and solitude underground … no offence.” He adds as the ghosts shimmer more brightly for a moment before beginning to fade.

Slowly their shapes disperse and soon all that is left is a soft light and a gentle shimmer which bathes the cave in warmth before blinking out completely and I know we are now alone, the spectres of Dimholt have finally found peace.

 

XXXX  
The silence is shocking after the terrific din of the battle, and all is darkness now that the shades have been released from their bondage to this place. By the glow of the central fire I can just make out the slaughtered bodies of the Corsair pirates that litter the ground. Perhaps I should feel sorry for this massacre. Much blood has been spilled this day, and I am not one to take pleasure in meaningless killing. But somehow I cannot find much regret for what has been done when I remember those tortured souls who could not find peace even in death. So many suffered and died in this place at the hands of those foul men. Others no doubt are still suffering yet today having been sold on as slaves. That thought makes my blood run cold for obvious reasons when I think on what Legolas told me of his short time as a captive and the vulgar threats they made. Most who fell into their hands were not so fortunate as he was. No, when I look at my friend standing next to me and think of what might have been, I cannot work up even an ounce of regret.   
Speaking of my elfling, he was quite spectacular in this battle, which of course is no surprise. He was fighting with such efficiency and determination that I fear he may have managed to beat my score this time, so I have no intention of bringing up our long standing competition. I only hope it is the last time we will ever have to play this game. Hopefully we have seen the end of such things for all time.

I am thankful to see that both of my friends are still standing and neither have sustained serious injuries, though Aragorn is bleeding freely from a cut on his lip.   
“Ye are injured, Human!” I growl, “Did I not warn you to stay back?” 

Aragorn laughs and wipes his lip on his sleeve. “I did not get this in the fight,” he retorts, “You bumped into me with your axe handle when you were backing away from those shades.” 

Ha! A likely story and one that can never be proven! A dwarf never backs away from anything! Everyone knows that, and I hurry to point it out to both of my smirking friends. I focus my glare on Legolas who has given up smirking and is now laughing openly. 

“What do you find so amusing, Elf?” I demand.

“How many Gimli?”

“It is a childish game!”

“And yet I know you counted! How many?”

A low growl and a fierce look are my only answer. The things I put up with from that pointy-eared brat…

end


End file.
